


In the beginning - fire

by Shadowmun



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Blasphemy, Dubious Consent, M/M, Porn With Plot, Temporary Character Death, does it count as character death?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:28:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26771419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowmun/pseuds/Shadowmun
Summary: What if, there was desire, before there was love? Or at least the realization of love? What if, all religious guilt aside, Joe and Nicky just happen to f...
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 4
Kudos: 51





	In the beginning - fire

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly smut, to be honest, smut with a little plot, very little plot... and a bit of angst... but we all know, how that turned out, so... so what...  
> Again, no native, no betaread. And because I was told (I couldn't believe, this is necessary, but... here we are: constructive critism wanted.

It wasn’t rare for the Arab to come by night. Nicolo didn’t bother to sleep with one eye open anymore. If he died, he died. He would come back anyway, and lack of sleep was an awful way to go.  
So, he was unaware of the Arab, Yussuf, he remembered, from the first barked out words, they exchanged, until a hand slipped around his throat and a heavy body crashed into his back. That certainly alarmed him, but it didn’t make him move. Only the faster breathing betrayed him being awake. Yussuf still knew. His mouth just behind Nicolo’s ear, whispered almost tenderly: “I could kill you now.”  
Nicolo chuckled. “Like the last three times?” Dying lost its novelty pretty fast. What was new though, was the Arab’s hesitation. The way he held Nicolo’s jaw sliding the other hand indecisively up and down Nicolo’s back. He remained silent, although by now, Nicolo knew for certain, he was perfectly able to express himself in Genoese.  
Nicolo exhaled softly, trying to concentrate. “What do you want?” It was hard to stay focused, no matter what emotion poured into you, fear, anger, or, God forbid, desire.  
“Isn’t that quite simple?”, the Arab breathed into his increasingly sensitive ear and tightened the grip around his neck. This was getting really uncomfortable, if not for the obvious reasons. Nicolo leaned his head back against the enemy, so slowly, it was impossible to find it aggressive. “I am clueless”, he admitted. Yussuf’s hand left his back and wandered to Nicolo’s front, effortlessly slipping below his ragged tunic. Teasingly it followed the line along his stomach, where Yussuf’s curved blade had cut him open, when they first clashed in battle. Nicolo could hardly breathe. No swallow would remove that tightness in his throat, the growing tension in his stomach. He concealed it with boldness. “Figuring out new ways to kill me?”  
Yussuf snorted, tightening the clench of his hand once more. His body also pressed closer again and now Nicolo could feel the sword, the Arab seemingly intended to use tonight. He couldn’t stop shaking with anticipation, although he had barely any idea, how this would work out. Even the descriptions of ordinary… intercourse, he had received in his life, had been far from helpful, and this was all but ordinary.  
It was so much worse, so much better, than he could ever imagine. And the tension between them, the anger, the kills, the religious fervor, only seemed to spice up things. So he just lay there, unable to speak, in need to remember such simple things as breathing.  
Yussuf took it as approval and slipped the offending weapon between Nicolo’s cheeks and thighs, slowly pumping the tip against the base of Nicolo’s own manhood. It was bliss. He worked hard to stifle the moans, biting down at his own hand, tensing more with every touch. ‘Stay still!’, he prayed in silence to no one in particular. ‘Don’t let him realize, how close he is to killing you.’  
The pace sped up and eroded, what little resolve Nicolo had left. He wanted, needed to touch himself, but he refrained from it. Resisted long enough for the Arab to spill. Nicolo was relieved. He didn’t give in. He didn’t surrender. He won another battle against an enemy far older and mightier that the Arab. His sigh was a betrayer.  
Surprisingly soft hands turned him on his back, searched and found him, still hard. Nicolo tensed, put up a fight for the first time this night. All it got him, was the Arab, sitting above him, thoroughly wrapping one hand around his member, the other around his throat. A hoarse cry made its way out of him. “Don’t”, he begged, made Yussuf stop, waiting. A silent and unmoving reminder of desire unfulfilled. Nicolo winced in frustration. Waiting would not help, making this go away. “Please…”, he rasped drawn-out. “Please…”  
“So polite”, was the amused answer, and the Arab obeyed. Slowly his hand slid up and down. Too much to calm down, too little to help. Nicolo buckled helplessly, moaning louder and louder, while shame and restraint burned away. No biting his lip, no self-inflicted pain grounded him, yet, release also remained just outside his grasp. Within him, a war raged. He didn’t want to give in, to lose himself in his twisted mirror image holding his body down like an evil spirit, but he needed it so desperately. The Arab showed no intention to help either side. He continued, slow and steady.  
Nicolo shivered, almost in pain and begged for more. All his gulps for air ended in a sharp, cruel click and tears started streaming down over his temples.  
Suddenly, Yussuf shifted. One hand slid from his neck to his stomach, keeping him down, while the other freed him from his clothes. Cold night air hit the sensitive tip, forcing a small scream from Nicolo’s lungs. It was replaced by a feeling, so warm, so wet, it took Nicolo several minutes to understand.  
“No, no…”, he pleaded. “It’s dirty.”  
“That it is!”, Yussuf answered somewhat muffled and licked his tongue all over him again, sucking and teasing beyond what Nicolo could take. With a pained cry, he came, unable to catch his breath.  
The weight of the man half on top of him moved and he heard some spitting noises. Then he returned, pinning Nicolo once more. “You are cute, when you try to resist me.”  
Nicolo grinned unhappily. “We are damned, you know?” It was still a little huffed.  
Yussuf shrugged. “Isn’t this hell, already?”  
A suppressed chuckle escaped Nicolo. He had pondered the very same question repeatedly. All the pain, all the death, the blood and gore. Not mentioning hunger and unforgiving, deadly dry heat. Millions of flies, myriads of ways to suffer. He nodded. “I’m tired of it.”  
Pain tinted his words, tensed his expression. He sighed and sank back, fully relaxing, giving up. “Get it done. Kill me now.”  
A hint of a smile, barely visible in the darkness hovered above him, as soothing hands found their way below his clothing, caressed the bare skin of his stomach and chest. “I did that, already. Wouldn’t think you are ready for another round.”  
It took Nicolo embarrassingly long to get the joke. A coughed chuckle twisted his lips. “Probably not.” He felt a twitch somewhere. “But you are.” With this quip, he finally mustered the strength to turn around, taking the Arab with him and reversing their positions. “Show me. Show me, how it is done. We can go back to killing afterwards.”  
Now, with him on top, he could read the expressions on Yussuf’s face much better. He seemed so shocked, Nicolo almost released him. But then, his fingers started wandering again, haunting playfully over Nicolo’s skin. “You don’t know?” Nicolo shrugged.  
“I barely ever had enough privacy for such endeavors. And nobody to share them.” Pity was the last thing, he expected. Mocking, maybe, amusement… but pity? He felt embarrassed heat rise into his cheeks. With a jerk, he pulled away and grumbled: “We can easily go back to killing now.” It lacked all commitment.  
Yussuf’s eyes caught him. Made him hesitate, made him stay. His soft hands guided him, until he was faced with his half-hard manhood. He slowly followed Yussuf’s instructions, first by the letter, more freely as he got bolder. He followed every hiss and moan with renewed amazement, putting his lips and tongue to work as if they were made for this. He couldn’t help the fascination, the pure power, the situation had over him, couldn’t believe, that pleasuring a man, anybody, really, could make him all hard and needy again. And still.  
He licked and sucked with devotion and concentration and kneeled above his heathen enemy as if in prayer. All too soon, Yussuf tried to pull back, tried not to release into Nicolo’s eager mouth. He wouldn’t let him. “Don’t spare me”, he mumbled, staying in place and continued his efforts.  
Arabic phrases spilled from Yussuf’s lips, faster and faster, with no translation needed. His hips thrusted all by themselves, forcing Nicolo to take him deeper than he ever imagined he could. It was surprisingly pleasant. He gagged a little, when the salty bitter taste of Yussuf’s spill first hit his mouth, but he managed to keep his pace, until the waves of excitement ceased.  
For the first time, since they had started talking, his enemy lacked the words to express himself. “Not, what you expected?”, Nicolo teased. It earned him a knee to his bottom, but he just laughed it off. Getting serious again, he rose into sitting position, while Yussuf mirrored the movement, their faces ending up so closely together, they almost touched.  
“I am no precious thing, you know?”, Nicolo announced emphasizing every word with serious pace. “I neither need to be spared nor protected.”  
“But you are…” Yussuf uttered beside his ear. “Precious and beautiful.” His hand cupped Nicolo’s cheek with a tenderness, unknown to any interaction before. “You could use a bath, though.”  
“Baths are unhealthy, and bathhouses are sinful places”, Nicolo disagreed almost automatically. But, to be honest, he certainly could use a bath and would have taken it without complaint. The remnants of too many battles caked his skin and mixed with the sand, chaffing in very uncomfortable locations.  
The Arab gave him a soft shove and answered: “You lack all the necessities to get to the sinful places. Money included.” When Nicolo swung back into position, he cupped his jaw once more and planted a careful kiss to his temple. “I have to go now. Have a bath, truly.” And with that, he was gone, sparing Nicolo the necessity to find an answer befitting him.  
“See you soon…”, Nicolo whispered, all to himself, and unbelievingly touched the place, where Yussuf’s lips had left him.  
Tears started to fall from his eyes, silent at first, then soon accompanied by deep, hoarse sobs, releasing all the pain, anger, tiredness at once, here, where no one would hear, no one would see them. Helplessly, Nicolo hugged himself, rocking forth and back, until the storm in his mind calmed.  
The shining beam of hope, this night had cast on him, now only pushed him deeper into the darkness of self-damnation. “I’m damned”, he whispered, like a litany. “I’m damned, I’m damned.” Only the first light of morning released him from this cycle, led him to real prayer, begging for forgiveness and guidance. If God was in heaven, the prayer did not go unheard.

“Do you remember?”, Nicky more exhales than says, smiling against Joe’s skin, gliding down unto him like temptation itself. Only his breath caresses his lover’s stomach and thighs. The corners of Joe’s mouth twitch up, though tensely, while his hands search for Nicolo’s hair.  
“Remember what? That you are the most talented and shameless tease, I have ever known?” Nicolo’s lips take him, his tongue flicks in well-practiced motion.  
“Mmhmh.”, he disagrees, exhaling a long streak of hot air into Joe’s lap and removing himself most unwillingly to explain. “That I fell in love with you with your taste on my tongue.” His chin fits perfectly onto Joe’s hipbone, while he studies his lover’s expression.  
Joe groans and feigns frustration. “You definitely need to brush up your skills in dirty talk.” In truth he is full of anticipation, longing for Nicky’s teases and denials as much as for the final reward.


End file.
